Tragic Tale Of Fortunes Lost

This melancholic folk ballad by Banjo Paterson provides thoughtful perspective on the precarious and cyclical nature of pastoral fortunes in the volatile Australian outback.

Adopting the voice of a ruined squatter lamenting his reversal of fate, Paterson traces the arc from heady prosperity to total dispossession at the whims of “bad seasons.”

Vivid contrasts between the speaker’s former mansion and present squalor powerfully convey his downward mobility. Details like mortgaged cattle and damaged wool reveal external forces conquering his futile efforts.

References to a lost idyllic past imply the cruel impermanence of success in the bush, where status and stability were fragile. The land could elevate dreams or shatter them arbitrarily.

While sympathetic, Paterson insightfully shows how the Australian landscape resists mastery. The squatter’s tragic fall reflects the environment’s persistent power to diminish those who temporarily tame it.

Ultimately, “The Freehold on the Plain” provides sobering commentary on the fleeting nature of human agency against the indifference of the continent. Paterson highlights the pathos in pioneers’ dashed arcadian dreams.

THE FREEHOLD ON THE PLAIN

(Air: “The Little Old Log Cabin in the Lane.”)

I’m a broken-down old squatter, my cash it is all gone,
Of troubles and bad seasons I complain;
My cattle are all mortgaged, of horses I have none,
And I’ve lost that little freehold on the plain.

                 Chorus

The stockyard’s broken down, and the woolshed’s
tumbling in;
I’ve written to the mortgagees in vain;
My wool it is all damaged and it is not worth a pin,
And I’ve lost that little freehold on the plain.

I commenced life as a squatter some twenty years ago,
When fortune followed in my train;
But I speculated heavy and I’d have you all to know
That I’ve lost that little freehold on the plain.

Chorus: The stockyard’s broken down, &c.

I built myself a mansion, and chose myself a wife;
Of her I have no reason to complain;
For I thought I had sufficient to last me all my life,
But I’ve lost that little freehold on the plain.

Chorus: The stockyard’s broken down, &c.

And now I am compelled to take a drover’s life,
To drive cattle through the sunshine and the rain,
And to leave her behind me, my own dear loving wife–
We were happy on that freehold on the plain.

Chorus: The stockyard’s broken down, &c.